The Crippling Terrors (Tracking Ever Nearer Book 1)

by Jeff Vrolyks

  I adored her spirit. “Why?” We leaned in and touched foreheads.

  “The beginning, D, is at the end. You see? Kevin, only our beginning is ending.”

  Their attempts at the window increased. I pressed my cheek against hers and closed my eyes.

  Thud. Thud.

  “I’ll find you, Holly.”

  “I would wait an eternity for you.”

  Neither of us spoke again. Everything that needed to be said was.

  With the exploding glass came the end of our beginning.

  Chapter 18

  Holly and I mirrored each other on the floor: legs stretched out, backs against the desk, and our heads resting against one another’s. The window shattered, glass shards chimed off as they fragmentized and skittered across the floor. A wolf landed on all fours on a sheet of glass debris. His legs slid out from under him, bringing him to a halt at Holly’s feet.

  For a second I contemplated a preemptive attack against him, but the curious heads of his friends were filling the empty window space quickly. I abandoned the thought.

  Holly accepted her fate, as evidenced by her unflinching reaction. I accepted it as well, but I’ll be damned if the only woman I ever loved was going to be mauled to death before my eyes. I crossed my far leg over hers and rolled over, straddling her body. One arm hung lamely below her chest and the other propped me up. I hovered closely above her, shielding as much of her as I could. With eyes closed, we waited. A paw brushed against my ankle as the wolf regained his footing. I heard displaced glass fragments and the soft impact of many paws entering the room.

  Any moment now.

  I peeked. Holly’s eyes opened as well, and fixed on mine. She was calmly expectant.

  Silence gave way to the panting of a wolf, followed by others, until a choir of heavy-breathed wolves panted in harmony. I looked behind me and saw a preponderance of black pelts. “What! If you’re going to do it, do it!”

  They ceased panting momentarily. Then resumed.

  Huf Huf Huf Huf

  Holly angled her view around me. The mouth of a wolf found me. His slobbery abrasive tongue found the thin gap between my sock and hiked-up pant leg. I discerned being tasted, savored. But I was wrong. Holly smiled. It had to be a dream, this couldn’t be real. A wolf sprawled out on his belly, back legs postured like a frog and front legs praying in front of him. His ears were erect, and when our eyes met, he stopped licking me and tilted his head curiously. He then resumed lapping my lower calf.

  There were five wolves in the room. They were nearly identical to one another with the exception of three being marginally smaller than the other two, probably females. One had a light gray bib and belly. She was smiling. Her tongue dangled to the side, bouncing in rhythm to her breathing. Her eyes were thin and calm. There was no discernable difference between her and a loving pet. She glanced around the room, showing interest in her surrounding. She was as beautiful as any animal I had ever seen. Another female sat beside her, eyes sorrowful. She whimpered. As I searched for my voice, Holly found hers.

  “Hun, what’s going on here? Are these your friends?”

  I rolled off Holly and sat beside her. Two wolves were by Alison’s side in the corner. One nuzzled Ali’s head to the side. The other put her head-dressing in his mouth and pulled it away from the gash. They licked the wound with gentle awareness. The others watched. The smallest wolf whimpered.

  “I don’t… I can’t,” I couldn’t adequately gather my thoughts. “What is this?”

  “They don’t want to harm us, they’re… they’re precious.”

  “A pack of wolves broke in and they’re friendly? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “If you want I can ask them to eat us, so it will make more sense.” A pair of wolves were licking Ali’s wound. “How on earth,” Holly marveled.

  “Licking wounds shows their good intentions,” I surmised. “Not that it’s going to do her any good. We need to get her to the hospital immediately.”

  “Let’s go. The hospital is ten minutes away.”

  We got in position to move the desk out of our way. Holly giggled when she felt a cold wet nose nuzzling her calf. She looked back: a wolf had her cell-phone in his mouth. She took it and thanked him. His tail wagged.

  “That was polite of you to thank him,” I said mockingly. “I’m sure he appreciates your manners.” The wolf looked up and away. “He just rolled his eyes at me!”

  The day Holly and I met, as we poked at our uneaten entrees, she mentioned her deep love for animals. I could now see it in her demeanor, and in her eyes. She was already smitten with them. These wolves couldn’t be in better company. If they gave her half a chance, she would love them to death.

  As we struggled with the desk, two observing wolves came to our aid by pushing the back of the desk with their heads. It was a great help, and to think I was trying to keep them locked out. They were proving themselves to be the Swiss Army Knife of the animal kingdom. Two continued licking Alison. I was apprehensive to brush them away to gather her up.

  “Guys, I need to get her to the hospital. Please don’t get angry.” I approached her and they growled at me. I stepped back. I paused before slowly returning to Ali. They growled louder this time. “We don’t have time for this. She needs to be taken to the hospital. Now.” They continued with Alison. I sighed and muttered, “I wish we had a gun.” The five wolves and Holly glared at me.

  “How could you say that?” she said disappointedly.

  “That’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t hurt them, geez. I would only fire a warning shot to get them to move. For Alison. Every minute is crucial.” Still sensing some hostility, I conceded. “I’m sorry, I don’t think sometimes. I panic.” Holly accepted the apology. “So what are we going to do? They won’t allow me to take Alison.”

  “I don’t know. Believe me, I want to get her there too. But there has to be a reason why they’re doing this. Maybe it’s helping her.”

  The air irritated my lungs and eyes. “Fine.”

  A wolf whined. Another chuffed.

  “Now what?” I said exasperatedly.

  One stood on his hind legs and looked out the empty window. Another joined, and whimpered.

  “Kevin, what I saw earlier, in the window.” The wolves looked at Holly. “I don’t know what it was… I hope it was an illusion, because if that thing exists…”

  The wolves backed away from Alison and chuffed.

  “Let’s get her to the truck,” I said. I scooped her legs with one arm, pinned them at my side; Holly lifted her by the armpits. She seemed awfully light. Does blood weigh much? We carried her through the house. The hospital was ten minutes away, I would make it in five. I planned on giving the finger to every law in the book.

  We reached the front door. Hands full, neither of us could open it. One of them clamped its teeth on the inserted door key and rotated its head till the lock unbolted. It then depressed the lever above the door handle. It cracked open. The wolf pawed it from there and got out of our way.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I said.

  “This is why I’m a dog lover,” she said smugly.

  “Well I still hate them. Cats are cleaner and smarter.” A chorus of discontented snorts and barks followed. “I’m kidding! So sensitive you wolves are.” The damn things have quite an extensive understanding of the English language, I thought. The situation was utterly ridiculous. Ludicrous. Life was so comfortably normal only days ago—what happened?

  “I think they understand a lot more than we think,” she said. No rebuttal there.

  “Uh, Kevin?”

  We arrived at my truck and my eyes were burning, lungs irritated. I knew what she was going to say. “I smell it too. Fire.”

  Chapter 19: Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing

  VonFurenz’ second music video, Animal Instinct, featured several exotic animals including a grey wolf. The handler of the wolf, Vladimir Petrov, explained the difference between them and other canines. A long
slender snout and a thick double coat—long bristles of fur intermingled with short bristles—being the most obvious. The significant differences lie in their personalities, one of which is their devotion to family. A lone wolf, though it is a term often used, is far from the norm. This wolf was alone. At the moment, at least. Vladimir had informed Kloss with his thick Russian accent, “Vhen you see a vulf, tventy more probably see you!” Feeling clever, he added, “Me fahder vas eye-doketor. He vould say, ‘Tventy-tventy vision is vhen you see all tventy vulfs. The fewer you see, the theeker your glasses.’”

  Wolves were reintroduced into the U.S. (after nearly a hundred years) in the mid-nineties (about three years ago), and only two-hundred were released, making wolves exceptionally rare and indigenous only to Yellowstone National Park. Davis was a full day’s drive from the nearest wolf, which meant this animal was likely a transported escapee or illegally smuggled.

  Kloss knew to stay calm and not project fear. He slowed his pace and held out his hand for the wolf to sniff: it wasn’t interested in his scent. It gave his hand a quick lick and heeled, to Kloss’s bemusement. By the time they arrived at his Hummer, he was petting and talking friendly to him. After the frustrating preceding events, this was a welcome and fascinating surprise.

  The tow truck idled behind the Hummer, high-beams blinding Kloss. A heavy-set bald man in a pale green jumper got out of the truck when he saw Kloss.

  “Howdy. I’m Owen.” He extended his hand and withdrew it when he noticed the wolf. He staggered back and moaned. His fear was palpable. He was begging to be a wolf snack, Kloss thought.

  “I’m Kloss. Don’t be afraid, he’s friendly.” Kloss knelt and stroked behind his ears, imagining Vladimir Petrov admonishing, ‘Nuh-uh-uh! Don’t do that! Dee vulf’s only master is his stomach!’ The wolf had an amicable deportment and that was good enough for Kloss.

  “Some pet you have there.” He disappeared to the back of his truck for tools.

  “Yeah, he’s some pet, isn’t he?”

  “What’s his name?” Owen asked, returning with a lug wrench and tire-iron.

  “His name? Well, his name is Jack, of course. Isn’t it, Jack?” Jack showed him what he thought of the name and Kloss cried, “Hey! Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Jack looked at the Hummer and whimpered. “What is it boy? Is there trouble, Lassie?” Kloss chuckled. Jack glared at him, then put Kloss’s shin in his mouth and clamped down firmly enough to make a point.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Jack squeezed harder before releasing. Kloss rubbed his shin with a hiss, glowering at Jack. What a fucking night, Kloss thought. A thought popped in his head and suddenly it all made sense. He smiled widely. He looked around for the hidden camera-crew and zany TV show host. Damn, they’re hiding pretty well, he thought.

  Owen worked his wrench and complimented Kloss on his Hummer. Jack snorted and shook his head in disagreement.

  “Thanks. I love it. If a nuclear attack should ever decimate our roadways, the salesman assured me that I could sip a brimming cup of coffee while driving over them.” Kloss petted its head cautiously. Jack’s eyes lingered on the Hummer. A whimper.

  Owen chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t doubt it. These things are beasts. Speaking of beasts, how does a guy get a pet like that? I bet you scare the hell out of people.”

  “I bet he does scare the hell out of people, at first. He’s a softy, though. Truth is, Owen, this isn’t my pet and I just found him ten minutes ago.”

  Owen dropped his lug wrench. “Come again?”

  Kloss repeated himself.

  “Those things aren’t from around here, Kloss.”

  “He probably escaped from an exotic animal handler,” Kloss theorized. “He seems to like me, though—when he isn’t gnawing on my leg.” He wagged his tail before whining at the Hummer again.

  Kloss sighed. “What’s the matter? Why do you keep whining at my truck? I don’t understand, buddy.” Kloss went to pet him; Jack backed away and snorted. They stared at one another. Kloss’s concern energized Jack, but it was brief as Kloss returned to idle chat with Owen. Their conversation came to a close when the tools were put up.

  “I appreciate you coming out in the middle of the night.” Kloss offered cash: Owen refused: company policy. Kloss scribbled his Hancock and imagined what his guitarist Gerry might have said, “This signature is worth more than you car,” or something similarly offensive. They exchanged farewells.

  Jack held his ground in front of the driver’s door before Kloss reached it.

  “You really are a beautiful animal. You guys sure get a bum rap. Wolf in sheep’s clothing? Ha!” Jack was impassive. “I have to get going. Is your home around here?” The wolf shook its head. It amused Kloss. “That’s great. When you shake your head it’s like you’re saying no. I must have found the world’s smartest wolf.” Kloss’s smile blinked away when Jack nodded. “Do you…? You’ve got to be kidding me. Nah…”

  Kloss dismissed the thought and remembered Holly. “Take care, little doggie. Don’t eat all the neighborhood pets. They’ll clog your arteries, especially wiener-dogs.”

  Kloss gave him a pet for good measure and sorted through his keys. Jack bared his teeth: they were terrifyingly long and sharp.

  “What did I do? I thought we were cool.”

  He dropped his lip and wagged his tail.

  “You are the strangest animal ever. I’ll miss you, buddy.”

  He jammed his key in the door lock. Jack perched on his hind legs and grabbed the nearest shirt sleeve and pulled his arm away.

  “What’s your problem? Why won’t you let me leave?”

  Jack walked to the nearby dirt shoulder.

  “Can this day get any weirder?” He took advantage of Jack’s absence and quickly unlocked the door and opened it. Before he got his right leg in the vehicle, the door pushed shut. Jack shook his head at Kloss reproachfully.

  “Unbelievable,” Kloss muttered. “What the hell is going on here?” Kloss stooped, and with his face inches from Jack’s, he exclaimed, “Jack! Wolf! Whatever your damned name is! What the hell?”

  Jack put a paw on the door and stared resolutely at Kloss.

  “Can you… understand me?”

  Jack snorted and walked to the nearby shoulder and pawed the dirt. Kloss gained his side and watched nervously.

  YES, it read.

  Kloss was agape. His heart wedged in his throat—he coughed. “How, how, nuh-uh, no way.” He paced around aimlessly and rubbed the nape of his neck. He decided not to say anything else that might elicit a response. He looked around again for the camera crew, knowing damn well he wouldn’t find one. He shouted, “Is someone messing with me? Zach? Keith? Gerry?” He muttered, “I’m losing my mind. This is what I get for not taking time off. Sixteen hour days in the studio, four hours of sleep. Just because Zach can go without—”

  Jack barked fiercely and went back to the dirt shoulder and pawed a little more.

  “No, don’t do that. No, Jack.” Kloss found himself watching.

  DEATH

  On the verge of hysteria, Kloss asked if he was going to die. His heart was one steady impossibly fast beat, mouth so dry he couldn’t swallow. He paced in circles as the wolf pawed more dirt for what felt like an eternity. Kloss suddenly needed a cigarette like a man on the gallows needs a pardon. He frantically groped the pack of Reds out of his pocket and stumbled around the pack before he got a cig out. It took a few tries to wed the flame to the Marlboro. He took a long deep pull. Then another. Kloss struggled to recall what he ate that day and pondered what medication he may have forgotten to take, even though he wasn’t on any medications. Maybe the problem was that he needed to be on some. Jack woofed three times before Kloss finally obliged him.

  DRIVE AND DIE

  TRUST

  Kloss rounded on his heels and reached a full stride along the shoulder of the road. He pulled out another cigarette and tore off the filter and lit it with even greater difficulty.

  “I’m e
ither dreaming or I’m insane. Dreaming or insane, those are the only two possibilities, right? What else could it be? Sleeping, insane… oh God what’s wrong with me?”

  Jack trotted to Kloss and heeled. Kloss wouldn’t look at him. He instead increased his pace. Jack wasn’t dissuaded. Kloss stopped abruptly. “What the fuck do you want! Huh? What!” Jack lowered his head but maintained eye contact. “Leave me be! Go! Fuck off!”

  Jack turned and paced slowly away with his head down. Kloss watched him off. Jack passed by the Hummer never looking back.

  “That’s it? That’s it? You follow me to my truck, nod yes, nod no, write shit in the fucking dirt! Tell me I will die if I drive my truck, and then you leave? Are you fucking kidding me! What kind of evil thing are you?”

  Jack stopped.

  “Well? What am I supposed to do?” Jack didn’t move. “You can’t expect me to understand this! Am I insane? Am I dreaming? Jack!”

  Jack walked off the road. In the dirt he pawed a couple words. He moved a few paces and pawed another. He repeated once more, the last word Jack would ever write. Kloss went to read it, and re-read it a few more times.

  Kloss opened his door, turned on the Hummer’s headlights, closed the door. Jack wagged his tail as he watched. Kloss heeled to Jack this time and followed him toward the freeway onramp. He apologized to Jack and left it at that—Jack knew what he was doing. He wanted the HEADLIGHTS ON, so Kloss obliged him. If Jack would have written set the Hummer on fire, he might have used his cash as kindling to get it going. Kloss felt that Jack wasted his energy writing the third word, FOLLOW, but he wasn’t going to bring it up.

  Though Kloss didn’t consider himself religious—he prayed on Christmas and Easter, the two days a year he attended mass—he thought it was appropriate to say a little prayer now, as many people do when they fear for their beloved.

  “Dear God in heaven, please, please don’t let anything happen to—”